


Succubus

by shannyan



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Choking, Gaslighting, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Manipulation, Minor Self Harm, also he’s so lonely, and bill bites off more than he can chew, ford is really arrogant and in denial, tbh it’s kinda kinky whoops, upcoming smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:18:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannyan/pseuds/shannyan
Summary: The axolotl reincarnates Bill as a human, powerless and in Ford’s hands. But there are other ways to obtain power. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.Basically, what would have to happen to rekindle a relationship between Ford and Bill (and which way will the scale tip)?





	1. Chapter 1

Bill was bored. Locked up with nothing to do but stare at Ford’s back as he read, wrote, thought. He was almost pointedly not paying attention to him. His cell was even soundproof, so he couldn’t even try to get Ford to look over at him.

The chamber only ever opened for Ford to give him food, and no matter what curses, obscenities, taunts, attempted deals, (but not pleas, he wasn't there yet!) he spout whenever the door was opened, Ford didn't utter a word back at him. Didn't even look him in the eyes.

He had a spoon and fork though. Looking at it reminded him of being in Dipper’s body— those were simpler times, sigh. He jammed it into his arm, for old time’s sake, and felt his grin involuntarily warp into a grimace. Pain wasn’t as amusing when it wasn’t somebody else’s body, but it was still interesting. He pushed the fork in deeper, marveling at how much force it took to break skin, which begrudgingly parted to reveal blood. Blood was also less fun when it was his. He scooped some up with his finger and gave it a taste. Pretty gross!

The feeling that came after the pain was fascinating. It was a slight, numb feeling that made him not dizzy, but something like that. He twisted the fork in his skin, surprised at how much blood the action spilled. He never took the time to appreciate these kinds of things with humans. He knew they were fragile, but this was almost ridiculous. The conflicting feelings of pain and calmness made him grin, excited to feel something.

How deep would he have to go to reach bone? He pushed down on the handle, feeling blood run down his arm, and frowned when he realized he didn’t have the strength to push past his muscles. He’d probably have to sandwich the fork between his arm and something stable and use his weight to penetrate his skin as deep as he wished. There was no real reason he wanted it; maybe just morbid curiosity. Or to get a certain someone’s attention.

He was twirling the fork in his skin, not ready for the wound to clot, when the door suddenly burst open. A hand grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him forward before he could even look up and he felt the air leave his lungs as he was slammed against the wall. He looked up alarmingly into Ford’s eyes, which were intense and panic-stricken. “Bill, What are you doing?!” he bellowed, grip uncomfortably stern.

Bill blinked at him. “Checking out my new body! It is _mine_ , after all.”

Ford grit his teeth, grabbed his arm by his wrist and yanked it up, and then pulled the fork free from his skin. Bill hissed at the pain but was smiling through it. “Is this some sort of tactic to get me to pay attention to you?”

Bill cocked his head, clearly not feeling any sense of danger. “Why do _you_ care?

Ford’s mouth opened, then quickly shut. His face scrunched up as if he were the one in pain, and he quickly stormed out. Bill took the chance to step outside of his chamber, stretching his arms. He wasn't going to try and escape (he knew he couldn't) but he just wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else. It was still the same view as usual but hey, no pesky glass in the way.

Ford returned with a red box which he hastily opened. He poured some clear liquid onto a cotton ball, grabbed Bill’s arm again, and started rubbing the wound. Bill let out a yelp with a contradicting grin. “I thought you said I shouldn't be hurting myself! This _double standard_ is hurtful!”

“Bill.” Ford started, sounding like he was barely holding onto his patience. “You're in a human body now. That fork was in your food and on the floor. You could get an infection and lose your arm. Human bodies die from infection!”

“And you're _opposed_ to that?” His tone was taunting, but there was an edge of seriousness in there which made Ford frown. He'd already thought about this before, but being reminded didn't help. Bill should be dead. Ford should have killed him when he came back in a human form. But..

“I don't know what form you'll take when-- if you come back.” Bill scoffed at his correction. “I can control you while you're in this body.”

“Then isn't that _motivation_ for me to _destroy_ it?” Bill asked innocently, reaching for a sharp thing in the red box.

Ford grabbed his arm swiftly, fury barely contained. “This is why you're kept in that chamber.” Ford put pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but Bill was only looking at his eyes.

Bill pouted. “I'm _bored_ , Sixer. Can you imagine going from seeing and knowing _LITERALLY EVERYTHING_ to this? It's a wonder how you all haven't killed yourselves!” He sighed regrettably. “The _perfect priming grounds_ for the _greatest party in the multiverse_.. Anyway, if you don't give me something to do, I might _bash my head in_.”

He said it casually, but Ford knew he was serious. He sighed. “I can get you a TV.”

“Oh, the device that allows you to watch whatever you want whenever you want! Kinda like how I am-- _well how I used to be_. Hm, sounds better than this. You gonna just lock me up in here with the TV for the _rest of your days_?”

Ford tried to not let his annoyance show on his face. This was why he avoided talking to Bill. He had no idea what he was going to do with him. When Ford thought about it, this was most probably Bill’s last life. And if he could be reincarnated again, it probably wouldn't be as a being more powerful that he was currently. If that were the case, he knew Bill would've “bashed his head in” by now. The fact that Bill didn't try to kill himself immediately after being reincarnated showed Ford that his current body was probably the best he could get from now on.

So theoretically, it would be fine to kill him. The weirdness was still only contained in Gravity Falls so Ford could find him again if he turned up. The kids were opposed to killing him, but when it comes to apocalypse-inducing demons, they didn't have much authority.

He looked back at the empty chamber, his reflection watching him expectantly. It might be a sadistic thing, so dark he couldn't bring himself to think about it consciously. Maybe he wanted to watch Bill waste away in that room. Become something so weak, so meaningless, that he might as well be dead. Go insane from the dissonance of what he was and what he is.

But just then, when Ford saw Bill plunge that fork into his arm, Ford really did think he had snapped. And there was no relief, no sick joy in watching that. There was _dread_. He still felt the waning adrenaline from the panic the sight gave him.

He was too invested in this. He shouldn't always be in the same room as him. He should take turns with Stan for watching Bill-- he shouldn't even be watching him, he knew he couldn't escape. He wasn't even watching him. He was just being around him. Just working, subconsciously remembering that Bill was right behind him. He’d been avoiding thinking about this, but it was hard when Bill was right in front of him, watching him with eyes that were simultaneously careful and carefree.

Before everything-- the kids, the portal, the apocalypse, when he was just simply working with Bill, he always craved his company. He had no control of when Bill came though; he would stupidly, naively ask him to come to his dreams, to speak to him while he worked, to even possess him. He modeled his house after him, bought artifacts of him, even bought random triangle shaped things in the hopes that it would bring him to him. Give him his attention.

But Bill hardly ever came. In fact, he seemed to intentionally not come when asked. He always tried to catch him off guard; he would come just when Ford gave up on him coming, then would come right when he asked for him, bringing his hopes up, then returned to coming back after too long.

Maybe that small sad part of him was trying to feel that satisfaction. Was he so weak? Was he really just going to ignore, forget who Bill really is, what he’s done? But he was squandering their time together, insistently ignoring him. There was nothing for Bill to pay attention _to_.

It was ridiculous, keeping him here like that. Ford knew. He also knew what he was doing now wasn't sustainable-- for Bill and him.

He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he felt Bill’s hand on his cheek-- Bill was touching him-- He jerked away from his touch almost violently, touching his face as if he burned it.

Bill laughed carelessly. “I know _I’m_ not one to talk, but you're being rude there, Sixer!”

Ford scowled and grabbed Bill’s arm again, now that it was ready to be bandaged. “We’ll figure out what to do with you.” he said lamely.

Bill giggled. “Mhm, sure. This,” he gestured at the chamber. “is overkill. Your damned unicorn hair keeps me trapped in this house. You could at least give me a room!”

“So you could sneak out and kill us all?” Ford asked, deadpanned. He wrapped the bandage around his arm, the rushed job sloppy due to his slightly shaky hands.

Bill scoffed. “Why would I do that? Then I’m stuck here for the _rest of eternity_ with no company! You know how I _hate_ being alone!”

Ford looked at him dubiously. He really couldn't tell if Bill cared about being entertained more than getting revenge. It seemed like they'd be the same thing in his mind.

“You don't want me here just to hang out. You can't ignore me forever-- _you don't want to_. You don't want to be a bad guy? Well sorry not sorry, it’s too late for that! Just let it go, Sixer. Be _honest_ with yourself.” He turned his arm up, fingers curling and lightly touching his forearm. “Just do what you want. You don't have to ignore me just cause I was a little dishonest. I'm all you have, all you'll ever have, and you're gonna give that up for what, appearances?” The touch became firmer, dragging, his nails now lightly scraping his skin. “I know you fleshbags are complicated little things. You can't just turn off all those things you felt. You want to be with me again.”  
  
Ford felt his blood run cold. Bill’s human face, unaccustomed to emotional expression, made him look oblivious, almost alien-like. Ford assumed Bill didn't, couldn't understand him, but now he had no idea how much he knew him. He might know Ford better than he does himself… No, no, Ford was done with being told who he was, he wasn't going to listen to him.

He broke eye contact, not wanting to look at him for so long. This was the longest he'd ever looked at him. He avoided looking at him, even when he slept. He knew Bill’s human body needed sleep and that he couldn't have been faking it, but the paranoia that Bill would catch him staring made him avoid him constantly. He may have been reincarnated powerless, but it was somewhat compensated by attractiveness. Even in a baggy tee-shirt and sweatpants, he looked too good.

Or, did he? Or was it Ford just-- no dammit,

He hastily finished wrapping his arm so he could take it back but Bill swiftly grabbed onto him, pulling himself closer.

“What’re you afraid of, _Fordsy_? Look at these _noodle arms_ , you could overpower me easily. I can't _hurt_ you.” He was touching him too much now, both hands gripping his arm and _crawling_

“I don't trust you!” he exclaimed, yanking his arm back. Bill followed after him, batting his eyes innocently, drawing attention to his ridiculously long eyelashes..

“ _Distrust_ doesn't make you avoid eye contact.” He scooted even closer to him so that their chairs were side by side. “Don't get me wrong, I _love_ messing with people, but this is all _you_ buddy. Looking at _me_ just _forces_ you to think about it..” He hugged his arm. “ _You're obsessed with me Ford._ ”

Ford shuddered and weakly tried pulling his arm back. “N-No--”

“This is _exactly_ what you wanted, _isn't it_? Me, without the threat of hurting people. You can lust over me guilt-free! You can forget the bad things I’ve done by remembering I’ll never harm anyone again! Nobody even has to know because it's just _us_ down here. This really is the best ending for you, isn't it.” He laid his head on his shoulder, nuzzling him. “You're _happy_ I’m not dead.”

Ford’s head spun. Happy, had he been happy? There was a guilty moment of relief he had felt-- a feeling he wanted to blame on the confusion, the excitement, but he had indeed felt it.

“You're _afraid_ of how much you want me. You don't have to be so hard on yourself. Let yourself enjoy it. Do you wanna talk to me? Examine me? Fuck me?” He slung a leg over Ford’s. “My time’s limited now, kiddo. Let's not waste it. Now tell me what you want.”

Even powerless, he was such a natural at gaining the upper hand, of feigning power. Ford’s mouth felt dry and he turned his head to look away. This, whatever this was, was the remnants of past unfulfilled feelings. They weren't valid. Bill was acting out of character to surprise him, confuse him, take advantage of him?

He pressed his lips against Ford’s arm, and he felt every brush of his lips as he spoke. “You have complete power over me. Is this how you want to exert it? I’m a bad guy Sixer, I’d really deserve whatever you wanted to do.” He dragged Ford’s limp wrist to his lap. “I know you Ford. I know what you wanted before and what you want now.” Ford couldn't even seriously consider what he was saying anymore, head swimming. His breathing had gotten heavier at some point, but he couldn't will himself to calm it.

“It's okay.” he said softly. “Nobody would blame you. I manipulated you so much after all. It’s okay that you haven't gotten over it yet. I took advantage of all of your insecurities, I helped you cope with all of your problems. You could only be so strong. And you don't have to be kind to me. I know you want to hurt me too. Wouldn't that make this easier?” He then pulled his wrist up, pressed his hand to his neck, Ford’s stiff fingers mushing against him uselessly.

“It’s okay.” he repeated, and Ford’s fingers twitched around his neck.

He didn't know what he wanted.

They had never been physical before, not even when Ford was most devoted to him. It had maybe only been a thought, just a thought, one Bill never addressed, so he thought it passed him, but of course it didn't, no, this is _Bill_. Ford didn't feel like that anymore, he hadn't, not in a long time, and even with the metal plate, Bill should know that, so _why_ , why this, why now, and why was it--

Was it working?

“Shut your mouth, Cipher.” he finally said, not feeling in control of his fingers tightening around his neck-- not too hard, not to cut off his breathing, but to make him feel it.

“You could trap me in this room. You wouldn't have to worry about me ever leaving and hurting somebody.” He sounded out of breath, and it made Ford feel weird-- “Whatever you want Ford, you can have anyth--”

Without even thinking about it, his fingers tightened all the way around his throat, and the lack of air showed immediately, Bill lips gaping as he gasped for breath, his eyes opening wide. He was so weak, so small, so vulnerable--

He slammed him against the table, still holding him by the neck, and stared deep into his eyes. He couldn't tell what kind of face he was making, but it was making Bill’s lips twitch upwards despite the choked sounds he was making. “I could kill you!”

That undignified look suited him, fuck, Ford wanted to let him go so he could hear him _scream_ , and maybe he would've if he didn't want to wait and see tears stream unwillingly from his eyes, dripping down to mix with the saliva spilling from his mouth, which would be finally, for the first time, wordless. No, he wanted to let him go so he could beg, with a voice desperate and weak, knowing that his life was in _Ford’s_ hands.

He released him, feeling something dark rise in him as he watched Bill breathe heavily, catching his breath. “Then do it.”

His voice sounded weak and thin but it was confident.

Ford suddenly became aware of how they were-- Bill panting, undone beneath him, while he towered over him, too close and too involved. He immediately wanted to back off but there was something challenging in Bill’s eyes that kept him in his place.

“I’ll never love you again.” That, he was confident about. The betrayal, the torture, and just Bill’s true nature, were all enough for him to never care about him again. Whatever _this_ was, this.. obsession, as Bill called it, was something dark and wrong. He didn't know what it was, but it couldn't be love.

He grabbed him by the back of his shirt and yanked him up, dragging him back to the cell. He picked up the bloodied fork on his way out, squeening it so hard, it bent in his grasp.

Right before he closed the door, he heard “Hoo boy, this is the most you've talked to me since our _torture sesh._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hhh i deleted and gutted a small thing that was here before so certain lines might be familiar? sorry lol. also future chapters will be longer!!
> 
> feedback is appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

Ford knew he was dreaming immediately once he saw his mindscape. Equations, books, and drawings drifted across the seemingly endless space. His mindscape hasn't looked like this since.. He shook his head and willed them to disappear, but they remained, floating around his head almost mockingly. He must not actually be in the mindscape, but rather remembering it. What was once an exciting and optimistic sight now made his stomach turn.

  
“Heya smart guy! Things sure are running along smoothly!” a voice above his head quipped. He jolted and immediately reached to grab the source, and there was Bill, at the size of a mouse, sitting in the palm of his hand. He laughed and grew to his normal size, reaching around to hook his arm around Ford’s shoulders. “You got _this_ much done in one day? Gotta say, that is some _really nice work_!”

  
A memory. Every encounter with his muse had been treasured, played and replayed in his head over and over again, so inscribed in his memory that even thirty years later, he could recall the moment vividly.

  
He looked away, almost habitually playing along. “It's only thanks to the lead you gave me.” He delivered the lines flatly, missing the bashful smile and slight flush of his cheeks. This admittedly wasn't the first time he recalled old memories, and he found that he got nothing out of fighting them.

  
Bill ruffled his hair, his hand remaining afterwards to twirl his curls between his fingers. “ _Seriously_ IQ, you're actually _ahead_ of schedule! You deserve a _prize_ , kid!”

  
And now he’ll conjure up a moptopus, an octopus whose tentacles had the appearance and texture of a mop, which Ford will foolishly marvel at, wholeheartedly thanking him for the experience.

  
But instead, the hands in his hair slipped down to cup his face, soft and sweet, and Bill’s eye, squinted into a smile, slid close and split into lips, which began to lean in--

  
He sat up sharply, gasping for breath as if he had been underwater. His head spun immediately afterwards and he flopped right back into bed. He shuddered, feeling disgusting in his own body, sweaty and sore. This was only because of Bill, and how he acted a few days ago. He shouldn't think too far into it...

  
He couldn't tell if Bill being human made things easier or harder. The new face should have at least somewhat eased his thoughts, blurred the mental associations, but looking at what Bill lacked now only made him focus on him more.

  
Bill was scrawny, so much so that Ford had been able to restrain him completely just with his hands. It had been very helpful when Bill had just turned human, furious and confused.

  
Ford still looked at his face as little as he could, but he could visualize it pretty well on his own. Perhaps the worst thing was how Bill’s hair unevenly fell in his face to hide one of his eyes, almost comically reminiscent of his previous form. That was probably the only resemblance there was. Granted, Bill had few features to begin with, but that mystique was a large part of his impression. Even the strength in Bill’s voice, that timbre of being above him, above humanity, was gone. His voice was now just… normal. It was almost pathetic to see how far he's fallen.

  
After the… incident, Ford wanted some distance from Bill, so he could recollect himself, think things over, process what Bill had said and refute his claims, but Bill now clung to the newly discovered weakness. It only took another day before he was trying to hurt himself again. Ford had given him a plastic fork as a precaution but Bill made do by banging his head against the wall. Without any sense of fear or experience, the one strike was all he needed to rip a laceration above his eyebrow. Remembering the loud sound still made Ford wince.

  
Since the face is extremely vascular, the shallow cut produced a lot of blood— too much. It was above his one visible eye, so the blood ended up temporarily blocking his vision. He had laughed maniacally when Ford opened the chamber, turning to face him with a closed eye and blood running over his lips. Ford felt too weak to deal with Bill, so he duct taped his mouth shut while tending to his wound.

  
It was certainly annoying, but preferable to Bill’s initial behavior. He was completely silent on the first day. He sat with his back facing Ford from the window and didn't move the entire time, hunched over and staring at the wall. He didn't turn around when Ford brought food or even when he called out his name, hesitant and wary. His unresponsiveness had been unnerving. However, he was energetic and casual the next day, which was somehow even worse. Ford didn't like thinking about what it must've been that calmed and comforted him.

  
Ford was met with that same cheeriness when he came down to the basement early that morning, having skipped breakfast with Stan to give himself more time to examine Bill’s new body. He needed to see, truly believe that Bill was human. Surely that would prevent such dreams from reoccurring.

  
He patiently endured Bill’s quips about how “the tables have turned” as he bound Bill’s wrists to his sides, strapping him in a chair. It was incredible that Ford used to find his banter charming. Right now he was very tempted to duct tape Bill’s mouth shut again.

  
“This is _kinky_.” Bill grinned and twisted his wrists in the cuffs just for show.  
Ford didn't even look up from his screen. “You're crazy if you think I’ll let you roam around my lab freely.”

  
Bill sighed. “ _Hey_ , anything’s better than that _cage_.”

  
“Even being turned into solid gold?” Ford meant to sound bitter, but he just made Bill laugh.

  
“Touché! _Y’know_ , I wasn't gonna actually keep you like that though. Why d’ya think I didn't add you to my _throne_?”

  
“I’m flattered.” he muttered, trying to ignore him and ready his materials in peace. He was looking for any indication that Bill was anything other than human, but so far everything was normal. He was partially happy about how things went after Bill self harmed. He had honestly been wanting to examine him ever since he had a human body, but he didn't want to talk to him. Now that the conversation was out of the way, he felt more comfortable doing what he wanted.

  
And there was this dark, sick side of him that wanted more. Bill always had the upper hand, always kept his composure, always wore this shit eating grin (despite not even having a mouth) like he knew something you didn’t. Ford was sick of it. He wanted to see him feel his helplessness, fear it, fear _him_. He wanted to watch his face pale, his eyes widen, an expression besides boredom or amusement. They weren’t equals now— Ford was above him. And he wanted Bill to feel that.

  
The more Bill teased him, the more he wanted it.

  
But he honestly couldn’t figure out what he could possibly do to make Bill feel that way. He seemed to want to feel pain, so physical intimidation wouldn’t work. Maybe.. maybe if it were a pain worse than anything he’d felt before, the kind that would make him realize how unpleasant it really is, that could… no. Even if that would work, he didn’t want to do it. He could say that it’s because he doesn’t want to sink to that level, but the excuse feels empty. He was scared of hurting him.

  
Not that he didn’t think Bill _deserved_ the pain. No, he deserves it more than anyone else. Rather than that, it’s something much more irrational. He was scared to lose him. His new body was a mystery, and Ford was incredibly worried about doing something wrong that would change things. His body just magically appeared like nothing-- couldn't it spontaneously disappear as well?

  
He could starve him, that would surely register as unpleasant, even for him. Tie him up so he couldn't hurt himself in protest. It would work, but while he wasn't sure what reaction he wanted, Bill tired and uncomfortable probably wasn't it.

  
The look on his face when Ford choked him flashed in his mind and he closed his eyes, willing the image away. He didn't like how that made him feel-- he had liked it too much.

  
If he had gone longer, he bet Bill would’ve started getting scared. Him, _scared_. He’d claw at Ford’s arms, frantic before sluggishly, vainly gripping his wrists. He’d try to say something, provoke him, but he’d only be able to choke out meaningless sounds. And he’d stare into his eyes just like before, shocked, hurting, and at the very end maybe even pleading—  
It didn’t matter how disempowered Bill was; he’d always feel above Ford. Even if Ford never let him out, never spoke to him again, he’d still don that secretive smile, as if maybe a piece of him were in Ford, and he was seeing everything still, fooling Ford into thinking he’s trapped him, and once again he’s been tricked, naive and stupid no matter his age.

  
Yes, this issue must stem from a fear of repeating past mistakes, but knowing this couldn’t help him. Bill must know about it as well, and continue bluffing just to mess with him, his feigned power transmuting into something tangible and too threatening. Ford needed to see an honest, real emotion, reaction, even just a facial expression. Something real that he could trust.

  
Maybe he should hurt him.

  
He roughly grabbed Bill’s arm, swabbing it with disinfectant, before pulling out a needle. “Oh?”

  
“Sharp things can be used for things other than torture.” Ford said dismissively, knowing what Bill was thinking. He held his arm still with one hand as the other injected the needle into his vein. He felt Bill’s eye locked on his the entire time and was careful to not meet it.

  
“So what're you doing?”

  
Ford perked up, surprised by his interest. “Your body materialized out of thin air. What kind of body can that be? Would it be completely functional and healthy? What about the DNA-- what decides your genetic information? Your face appears to be maybe late twenties to early thirties-- would your body reflect the same thing? Will your cells deteriorate at the same rate a normal human’s would?” He regretted speaking as soon as he was done, biting his lip like that would silence him. Gosh, he could never help himself from talking about things when he was excited.

  
Bill raised a brow. “What, so you think I might be an evolved human form? Gonna examine me to figure out how to advance humanity?” His face broke out into a grin. “Just kidding, I know you Fordsy, it’s all just human curiosity! Beats hanging with _Fez_ , I get it!”

  
After his time in the portal, he had gotten used to solitude. He learned to immerse himself in his passions, his goals, and they proved to be a significant distraction from any loneliness he felt.

  
However, it only took a small mention of his own interests to open up those gates again. The sad truth was that Ford desperately missed conversing. Dipper was smart, but only for his age. Stan had proven he was capable of understanding science, with enough time and.. motivation, but he certainly had no interest in it. Fiddleford couldn't even hear Bill’s name without flinching.

  
Was there harm in talking to Bill though? In a way, Ford was really just using him.

  
He finished taking the sample and wrapped the puncture wound, adding to the small collection of bandages on Bill’s body. “What I do with the information depends on what it reveals.” Though it was true his primary motivation was curiosity. “It’ll take no time to get the results. I have my own lab, which works much more efficiently than modern day technology.” He paused, frowning. “Well, more advanced than the technology from thirty years ago. I should see how advanced modern technology has become…”

  
Bill scanned the room with his eyes. “Nah, yours is still way better.”

  
Ford titled his head to the side. “How much do you know? Clearly, you can't see the future like you claimed, but you did understand how to build the portal… though I don't understand why you didn't build it all on your own, if you knew how to build it. Was it only the alien technology you understood?”

  
Bill made a buzzer sound, shaking his head. “I knew the alien technology was the only thing you _wouldn't_ know how to operate. I could've built it all on my own. Fun fact: that was the original plan! But you know how _boring_ that is? I’ve got a name to live up to, I can't just _do_ things.”

Ford glared at him, not quite convinced. “Even you should have a concept of priorities. This was your first real opportunity after thousands of years, I doubt you would've squandered it like that.”

  
“ _Okay_ , so extended periods of possession ruins the human body. Remember that thing with your _eye_? That was just the _start_ of it. I _overdid_ it a _little_ but _hey_ , it's not _my_ fault your body’s so _fun_! Testing the bounds of human endurance-- physically and emotionally-- is a rare chance! As is finding a shmuck _willing_ to give up their body.” He winked at him.

  
His eye still throbbed sometimes, when he thought about Bill. It wasn't too painful, but it was the worst pain he'd ever felt. There was a hysteric time where he considered replacing it with a mechanical eye just to stop the pain and reminders it held.

  
“...Wh..” His voice came out weak, and he cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you lie to me?” Bill raised an eyebrow. “When I asked you about Fiddleford… You could’ve said he was wrong. He was so unhinged, I would’ve believed you. You could have… controlled yourself… tended to my eye so I wouldn’t know my body was being harmed during possessions… held back those voices.” The thought terrified him, but it haunted him often. “I… I would have believed anything you said. And then you could’ve opened the portal thirty years ago, and maybe have succeeded with.. whatever you were planning. So why?”

  
Bill pursed his lips, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm.. _why_? Well, what can I say, you’re _cute_ when you _squirm_!”

Ford frowned, waiting for a laugh and a real explanation. “I’m serious, Bill. Why?”

  
Bill’s visible eye was wide, basking in the look on Ford’s face with clear glee. “I’m not lying, cross my singular human heart here! _C’mon_ IQ, I’m sure that _big ol brain_ of yours can get it. I thought it’d be fun!”

  
Ford felt his composure slip, anger and confusion shining through. “What? But, the portal..”

  
“ _Hey_ , don’t sell yourself short! Watching that whole fiasco was _worth_ thirty years of waiting. Most fun I’ve had in decades!”

  
“....Are you serious?”

  
“Yep. I knew the portal would open up again _eventually_. Your bro’s _smarter_ than he _looks_ , I knew he could figure it out!”

  
No way he could have confidently predicted everything that was going to happen. It was a gamble, it must've been. And for what? Just for Ford’s reaction? That's it?

  
Ford felt like a fool, but there was some sense of pride in having bested him despite how much power he had over him. He almost smiled at the thought.

  
“...My arrogance caused this whole mess to occur.. but your arrogance is what saved us.”

  
Bill’s eye twitched, his smirk slipped into a tight lipped smile, as if he was trying to stop himself from saying something. A pause, then his face relaxed again. “Don’t be so sure this is the end!”

  
Ford turned away, finishing packaging the samples, wanting to examine them only after Bill was locked up. Bill was bluffing, it would be pointless to humor him. He wasn’t going to let himself get paranoid over baseless threats. He began uncuffing Bill’s wrists, touching him as little as possible as he worked.

  
“What, are you _grounding_ me? C’mon smart guy, don't you get _bored_?”  
Ford ignored him, hoping the absence of attention would quiet him. They hadn’t talked much, but it was already enough to get on his nerves. He wanted to be alone already so he could ponder over everything Bill said.

  
“We have _so much_ to talk about. So much catching up to do! We didn't get a chance since we were, y'know, trying to _kill each other_. So _c’mon_ , how was galaxy hopping?” Crickets. “Well, I can do the talking if you're gonna be such a _party pooper_. Hm, what would you like to hear? My _tragic_ past? The way I've been _terrorizing_ your family while you were away? Here, let me _show_ you how nice I can be. Did you know I can see your dreams?”

  
Ford rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from reacting. “Yeah, and you were in it?” he deadpanned.

  
Bill tilted his head up and looked at him from over his nose. “Yep. Didn't know you prefer geometry to meatbags. I get the sentiment though!”

  
It wasn't such a far fetched guess, but it made Ford freeze. “What?”

  
Bill’s half lidded eye fell closed and he grinned. “Sure is a _shame_ you woke up _so soon_. I was looking forward to seeing how far your _imagination_ goes.”

  
Ford’s heart thudded to a stop and he grabbed Bill by the shoulders, looking closely at his now open eye. “How is that possible? You're.. you're human!”

  
Bill shrugged, the move slowed down by the weight of Ford’s hands. “Yeah, I thought it was _my dream_ at first, but if it were, it'd be way _bloodier_.”

  
Ford didn't pay mind to what he said, mind racing. If Bill could see his dreams, did that mean he could still interact with Ford in his mindscape? Was he only able to enter dreams when they were about him? Was he seeing through the eye of the Bill that Ford’s mind conjured?

  
“ _See_ , that's the kind of _juicy intel_ I normally would've kept to myself. Aren't you proud of me!”

  
“Is it just me?” Ford asked, gripping Bill tighter.

  
Bill pursued his lips, feigning deep thought. “Hmm… _nope_ , I've seen your bro’s dreams too. Hah, you _don't_ want to hear about _those_!”

  
Ford couldn't help the fear he felt from showing on his face. “What does he dream about? Me? Tell me!”

  
“ _Woah woah woah_ , that's an invasion of privacy! Have you no _shame_?” Bill grinned while chastising him, most likely loving how he was squirming.

  
“Bill.” Ford said in a low voice, patience clearly thin.

  
Bill puffed out his cheeks. “Nothing's _free_ , old man. How about we make a deal? If you--”

  
“Do you take me for a fool? I'll never make a deal with you again!” Ford all but shouted, squeezing him so hard he was sinking into the chair.

  
“Chill out big guy, I’m not asking for much! I just want a treat!” He raised his hands defensively, but he was clearly not alarmed.

  
Ford paused, then released him. “A.. treat?”

  
“ _Yeah_ , like something sweet. You're _lucky_ you're _pretty_ , ‘cause your cooking _sucks_.” He hunched his now free shoulders. “I want, like.. soda!”

  
“Soda?” Ford repeated dumbly, trying to find some hidden meaning in the beverage.

  
“Yeah! I’m not one dimensional-- I got _three_ now! I like _more_ than guts ‘n gore!”

  
Ford frowned. “....Fine, then I'll give you a soda. Now tell me.”

  
“Uh uh uh. Let's _shake_ on it.” He extended his hand, raising an eyebrow in a way that screamed “chicken?”.

  
Ford hesitated, scowled, and grabbed his hand, giving it a quick shake. “There.”

  
“Good! Okay, so here’re the dirty deets. He gets back a lot of memories in his dreams. You've had the same dream, but there are _minor_ lil differences in his. You're taller, meaner, _uglier_. Dumbass keeps _forgetting_ you're twins!”

  
It wasn't much to go off of, but Ford somehow knew. “He dreams of the day he left?”

  
Bill gave him a thumbs up. “ _Bingo_! Aw, it’s a shame I can't give you a prize. Oh!” He suddenly yanked off the bandage sprinkled with dry blood from around his arm and tossed it to him, which Ford let fall to the ground. “There! _Anyway_ , you made yourself seem like _way_ less of an asshole in your memories of it. Who’s the _narcissist_ now?”

  
Ford frowned, Bill’s taunts not reaching him. “I asked him to tell me when he remembers important things… I told him about what happened, but.. it must have a much stronger impact now.” Dammit, he chose an awful day to skip breakfast with him.

  
He held his chin between his thumb and forefinger, brow furrowing. “Why didn't he tell me..? It must be because he didn't want to upset me..” He suddenly gave Bill a hard stare. “Though I shouldn’t trust your word so easily. I should get confirmation from him first…”

  
He clicked his tongue. “Well aren’t you _sharp_! But you know Fez, _self sacrificial_ as always!”

  
“Should I tell him I know? I don't think he’d like to know that his dreams could be seen. I know I don't like it.” He frowned again.

  
“Do you two need _more_ secrets?”

  
He didn't mean to be asking Bill, he was just thinking aloud, but that didn't stop him from listening to him. “You're righ--” His face scrunched up and he shook his head. “I shouldn't keep things from him for reasons like that.” He squinted at him. “I feel like I should do the opposite of whatever you tell me to do, though.”

  
Bill raised an eyebrow. “ _Or maybe_ I said that, knowing you’d feel that way, in order to trick you into doing the opposite! _Or maybe_ I’m just saying this to make you do what I originally said. _Or_ I—“

  
“Enough!” Ford groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would've chosen to do that without your input anyway. I’m just.. wary of his reaction.”

  
“Oh I can tell you how he’d feel about it. I've been in your brother’s _mind_ , Fordsy-- very organized! Not just me, the whole gang came along. Funny thing they didn't know anything about you, even after ransacking his mind. Y’know why?” His voice was lowering as he spoke, forcing Ford to lean in to hear him, unwillingly showing Bill how much attention he was paying to him. “He locked up all his memories of you in the basement, because they were some of his _worst_. You sure are lucky those are gone now though, huh?” He laughed. “It's perfect. And so _fitting_ , look where you are right _now_!”

  
Ford jerked away from him despite not having even been touched. “I'm not-- this isn't because I prefer you to him!”

  
Bill cocked his head to the side. “ _No_? Then what _are_ you doing down _here_.”

  
“You think I’d just leave you alone down here? I'm not stupid, you're too--”

  
“I’m _helpless_.” He shouldn't have looked so happy to say that. “I pose no threat anymore. You don't have to be here.”

  
“No! I..” He shook his head. “I'm just making sure Gravity Falls is safe now. After all the damage y--”

  
“It's safe. Don't make _excuses_ Fordsy, you're smarter than this. You don't want to spend time with him. It's _awkward_ , isn't it? You're _strangers_ after all this time. What _happened_ to feeling suffocated? You didn't speak to him for forty years, you're both just gonna _forget_ _that_? _You ruined his life, Sixer_. Had you done something when he was kicked out, it wouldn't have been like this. Kid didn't even graduate high school, you _knew_ what would happen to him. But you didn't care, did you?” He laughed, always laughing.

  
“Laugh one more time, and I swear, I’ll…”

  
“Tie the bandage a little too _tight_ next time you _tenderly_ wrap up one of my wounds? _Oh_ _no_.” This excessive provocation simultaneously made Ford want to punch him and never touch him again to prove him wrong.

  
He settled with grabbing him by the back of his shirt and leading him back to the chamber and locking him up. He needed peace and quiet to plan what he’d say to Stan. Bill knew nothing, he didn’t even get to see the two of them interact. Stan forgave him.. he may not have even been worthy of his forgiveness, but nonetheless, he had been forgiven. Stan sacrificed everything for this, for them, so Ford’s discomfort and self hatred had no place at the time. He just wanted to be a good brother to him.

  
Still, Bill’s words rang in Ford’s head. He should go upstairs now and settle everything but… the blood sample… First he’ll conduct his tests, relax a little, and then he can go. He wanted to have a good state of mind for this— even after 60 years, he still struggled with these kinds of conversations.

  
He felt Bill’s eyes on his back the entire time but didn't dare turn around, trying to get Bill’s stupid face out of his mind so he could think about Stan. _Stan_.

  
***

  
Ford ended up spending the entire day working, but it worked in his favor, since the Mystery Shack tours should be closed by now. He wasn't hiding his identity; he was actually quite the celebrity in Gravity Falls. Stan had asked him multiple times to be one of the attractions at the shack, which Ford had denied. He felt uncomfortable around them… like he failed them. As far as the people of Gravity Falls knew, Bill was dead. A necessary lie to prevent panic.

  
He wasn't guilty about lying- he was used to lying, but being known as the guy who killed Bill… felt wrong. It reminded him that Bill should be dead, and that they shouldn't be doing.. whatever this was.

  
The first thing he felt was the eyes of the taxidermy heads on him, all seeming to be turned towards him. He shook his head and looked away. “Stanley?” He found him at the register, counting the money.

  
Stan blinked, looking up. “Oh, hey Sixer. It’s too early for dinner, I haven't started making it yet.”

  
He didn’t know how to feel about the nickname anymore. He thought of Stanley when Bill said it and Bill when Stanley said it.

  
Hearing him talk made Ford guilty. He really.. wasn't spending enough time with him. “I’m surprised that you cook so often. You weren't interested in it when we were teenagers.”

  
Stan shrugged, still looking down at the money Ford was sure he had finished counting by now. “I have more time on my hands now, so why not?”

  
More time.. thanks to the portal. “You should teach me. I'm not quite used to human food yet, after all that time in other galaxies.”

  
Stan nodded after a pause. “Sure. I thought you were busy with..” His nose crinkled in the disgust, the facial expression speaking for him.

  
Ford bit his lip. “Most of my time has actually been spent on trying to control the weirdness in Gravity Falls. I never knew that all of the townsfolk were being affected by it. I figured I should prioritize continuing my previous research…”

  
He didn't really know what to do with his life now that everything was over. He didn't expect to ever come back to his dimension, and since he came back, most of his time was spent focusing on stopping Bill. Now he was back to working on the weirdness magnet, except he no longer thought about publishing his results. At this point, it was about protecting the people at Gravity Falls, satisfying his curiosity, and just.. occupying himself.

  
It felt and sounded right, but the look on Stan’s face said otherwise. “Yeah yeah, well don't let anyone hear about it once the weirdness is all gone. I've got a business to run, and now I’m supporting the two of us! Well, this is still much better than when I had the kids around. Mabel ate enough for three grown men.” The words sounded annoyed, but he said them endearingly.

  
Ford laughed, visibly relaxing. Even if the kids weren't physically around, just mentioning them had a pacifying effect on the two of them. “She's still very upset about her letter not reaching us.”

  
Stan frowned. “What letter?”

  
“Last week she hand wrote us a letter, but used a sticker rather than a stamp. She didn't understand the difference.” he explained patiently, accustomed to his brother’s poor memory by now. It didn't.. really bother him that Stan forgot things often. He only needed to reiterate past events once or twice until they solidified in his memory.

  
However, it clearly upset Stan every time he forgot something. “Oh. Did she.. call us and tell us?”

  
“Only me, you were busy with the shack.” Ford said immediately, knowing Stan would be guilty to forget encounters with the kids.

  
He grunted in response, putting the money back in the box and locking it in the safe. “Y’know… I was thinking, maybe we should visit the kids. I haven't spoken to Shermie as myself before. And the kids had been worried about going back to school, it'd be good to see how they're doing.”

  
Ford felt his chest tighten with guilt. “Oh yes, I forgot that you two haven't met since Shermie was young.. I agree, you should go.”

  
“Me? Don't you mean us?” he asked quickly, brow furrowing.

  
Ford swallowed, looking down. “Well, I can't leave Bill alone here.” He watched Stan’s jaw set and inwardly cringed. “A-and I can run the shack as well.”

  
His tense and awkward body language subtly shifted into one more cold, aggressive. “I wasn't gonna bring this up today, but whatever. I want that monster out of here.”

  
Ford’s head snapped up. “W-What?”

  
“I want him gone.” Stan repeated firmly.

  
Ford blinked. “But he's powerless in this sta--”

  
“Don't give me that bull. He doesn't need magic powers to get to you. He, he gets into your head, in all sorts of ways.”

  
_I know that, I know him better than anyone._ “I.. I’m surprised to see you resent him this much, seeing how little you--”

  
“This isn't about me. Dammit, do you not remember how you were thirty years ago? He.. he might've driven you to killing yourself! I read your journal.. the things he's done to you..” His voice came out pitying rather than hostile at the end.

  
“I don't forgive him Stanley.” The words came out angry, his anger misdirected.. at least he thought it was. “No one could or should forgive the things he's done. He doesn't deserve to live, that's true, but..” He didn't have an ending to that sentence. “But the kids didn't want him to be killed.”

  
“Don't make it sound like this was the kids’ call.” He interjected sharply. “They're _kids_ , Ford. This isn't the first time you forgot that.”

  
Ford immediately knew he was referring to that time with Dipper, and he looked away from him shamefully. “Why.. is this so important to you?”

  
“Can't you see what he's doing?” There was a note of exhaustion in his gruff voice, as if this wasn't the first time he had to give the speech. “You're finally back, but you're spending all of your time with hi--”

  
“I said it wasn't like tha--”

“Shut it Ford! You're, you're obsessed with him!” Ford felt his breath catch in his throat. It's exactly what Bill said to him.. “The only way for you to get over… this, is to kill the bastard! Dammit Ford!” He clenched and unclenched his fist. “I want us to be brothers again..”

  
There was initially guilt, but it was quickly overshadowed by a sudden anger. Stan didn’t even know how involved things _were_. He saw the drawings, the tapestries, and statue when they gathered everything and burned it, but he didn’t _know_. Of the times that Ford would fall asleep at odd hours of the day, meditate, sometimes drug himself if he was too excited to concentrate, just so he could see Bill again. So he could talk to, learn from a being with a mind far more vast than he could even fathom. Bill was interested in everything he had to say, and he of course felt the same way about Bill. To have someone so smart, so powerful, so interesting, so above him, find him interesting. To have been chosen. Then, to be complimented— How could he not have worshipped him?

  
It was so shameful, he couldn't even write about it in his journal, he couldn't tell anyone. In fact, the only proof of it were the artifacts in his basement.

  
So he kept one of them.

  
_It means you haven't let go_ \-- he knew they'd think that, say that, so of course he couldn't tell them. They didn't understand. They couldn't, nobody could. He needed that proof, only that would help him move on. Denying it, hiding it, only made him think about it more. Bill had been like a god to him, and if he had been killed back then, he would have died a god. At least now, this way, with time, he could see him otherwise.

  
He needed this closure.

  
“Stanley… of course we’re brothers..” The tone of his voice had Stan looking up, hopeful. “But I have things I need to do… I’m sorting things out… on my own..”

  
He turned away, staring off at nothing in particular. “Just give me one good reason why he should still live. Bring up the kids again and you're out of here.” Even the fake eyeballs in the jar seemed to roll towards him, wide and judgmental.

  
_This is my house_ , he wanted to scream, but his throat felt dry. Every passing second of silence had Stan’s face growing redder and Ford’s paling. “...Stan.. he doesn't need to die… I’m not.. I would never be good to him. I don't understand why you..-”

  
“He does, Stanford. You'll never get over your past until he's gone. If you won't do it, I will.” His posture altered again, but it was slight. He stood up straighter, his head leveled, his shoulders squared. He was serious.

  
Ford felt like his legs were going to give out. “...Stanley, please. I've been gone for thirty years, how can you act like you kn--” He cut himself off, only then realizing the weight of his words, but Stan didn't let it slide.

  
“I what? I don't know you? I’m your _brother_ , Stanford! Who does know you then, huh? Him?” His voice rose with every word, his chest inflating, his eyes narrowing.  
After the perceived betrayal from Stan, he put all of his hope, all of his trust into Bill. And the world laughed at him, chastised him, kicked him out for being such a fool. He learned his lesson then, or he thought he did, but how quick he was to trust Dipper, despite him being a child. How quickly that was taken advantage of, and what steep repercussions it had. It was then, then that he should have learned, but when asked to trust Stan, he almost instantaneously agreed again. It was the right choice, he had thought. He had been tested again and again, pushed to the brink of emotional solitude, but he persevered after finding the right one to trust. It was correct, it was right, _finally_.

  
But as Stan leaned in towards him, nostrils flaring, carefully watching him with dubious eyes, he could almost feel that trust trickling out of him, like air from an imperceivable hole in a balloon.

  
He was tired of having to make the conscious decision whether or not to trust someone, and to see the results of his choice. Now, with Bill, it didn’t matter if he trusted him or not. The roles were reversed, and now Bill was at _his_ mercy. It was oddly liberating to not have to care about someone's view of him.

  
Ford took a defensive step backwards. “N-no… Stanley please, let's just eat. We shouldn't fight like this.”

  
“No Stanford. I didn't waste away thirty years of my life for nothing. Are you really going to… going to choose him over me?!?”

  
For an insane moment, Ford wished Stan’s memory hadn't returned so fully.

  
“Why does it have to be that way? Why must I choose? Give me a chance Stanley, you don't understand! It isn't what you think. I _hate_ him, do you truly think otherwise?”

  
“I know you do… I know… but hate doesn't make you do.. this. There's something more with you two..” He rested his arms against the counter heavily, the encounter seeming to have worn him down. “Why doesn't it feel like you're really back?”

  
Ford himself was exhausted by the scrutiny. “I’m not.. the same person I was when we were kids. And neither are you.”

  
There was a silent moment where they both just looked at each other, faces tired but unswerving, and Ford turned away first. He snatched a can of Pitt on his way out, immediately cursing at himself afterwards for thinking about Bill at a time like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the nice comments, i really appreciate it ;o; next chapter is already half way done and it’ll earn the M rating lol


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